


Summer Days Long Gone

by That_One_Slytherin



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Stanley Uris, Angst, Blood, Cutting, Gore, Hurt, Internal homophobia, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Losers club - Freeform, Lots of Hurt, M/M, Neibolt Stan - Freeform, Nevermind it doesn't get better, Period-Typical Homophobia, Reddie, Stenbrough, Suicide mention, The House on 28 Neibolt Street (IT), lots of blood, mention of suicide, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21629206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Slytherin/pseuds/That_One_Slytherin
Summary: “Do you like my new bracelets, Bill?”Stanley’s voice was void of inflection. “They’re your fault, you know. If you hadn’t made me promise to come back then I would still be alive. You made me do this Bill. It’s all your fault.” It was the truth and Bill knew it. He had known it was his fault since Beverly had made the phone call. Bill was to blame for his best friend’s death.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier - Relationship
Kudos: 38





	Summer Days Long Gone

“I love what he’s done with the place.” Riches voice echoes through the house. 

“Beep beep, Richie.” Beverly’s repute is half hearted at best. Bill looks around the Neibolt house. He may not have remembered all of the details of what went on here the first time when he first arrived in Derry, but the gut wrenching fear had remained. Now everything was coming back in full force. His hands were shaking and he just hoped that no one else noticed. He was supposed to be the fearless leader that showed them the way, right? He had drug them here the first time and it was his responsibility to make sure everyone was ok. He couldn’t do that if he was afraid. 

The door slammed, separating him, Richie, and Eddie in the bathroom, away from the others. He felt fear churning in his gut. Bill turned around slowly, dreading what he would see behind him. He heard Eddie gasp. Bill finally turned fully around and saw a face he never thought he would ever see again. Stanley stared back into Bill’s eyes.  
“Stanley?”

“Hi Bill. Long time no see, right?”

“I- I-”

“And Richie, good to see you again. How have you been?” It sounded so much like Stanley Bill’s chest hurt. It was almost like having his best friend back, standing in front of him again. Bill would have given anything to see Stan again but this? This wasn’t him and Bill knew it. It was just hard to remember that when this Stanley was standing right in front of him. 

“This can’t be happening. It’s using Stan against us? This is just sick.” Eddie’s voice brought Bill back to Earth. 

“I’m glad you guys made it back. Seem’s the whole gang is here now.” Bill felt ill the longer Stanley stood in front of him. The was Stanley stood showed his slit wrists to Bill, the blood drip, dripping down to splatter on the wooden floors. The sight of blood pouring from Stanley’s wrists took Bill back to the last time he had seen blood on Stanley’s hands. He had just dragged the piece of glass through Stan’s palm. They were standing face to face, looking into each other's eyes. Later that day, Bill had cleaned Stan’s hand while apologizing for how deep the gash was. Now the skin on Stanley’s writs was slit almost to the bone and there wasn’t anything Bill could do about it.

“Do you like my new bracelets, Bill?”Stanley’s voice was void of inflection. “They’re your fault, you know. If you hadn’t made me promise to come back then I would still be alive. You made me do this Bill. It’s all your fault.” It was the truth and Bill knew it. He had known it was his fault since Beverly had made the phone call. Bill was to blame for his best friend’s death. 

“You know that’s not true, right Bill? It’s just trying to get under your skin, It’s lying to you. Stan made his own decisions. You didn’t make him do anything. We all choose to make that promise and we all choose to come back or not.” Richie’s voice cut through the fog in Bill’s mind. He was right. Stan had made his choice and it wasn’t his fault. None of it was. Bill had never been more thankful for Richie.

“Thanks T-T-Trashmouth.” Bill reached behind himself, searching for anything that he could use to get rid of Stanley. His hand bumped against a handle. “I didn’t m-m-make you do any t-t-thing Stan. I-I-It’s not m-m-my f-f-fault.” Bill brought the razor around him, forcing Stanley to take a step back. “I’m sorry.” As the words left his lips, Bill lunged towards Stanley, the razor still separating the two of them. Bill swung the blade at Stanley, catching him in the wrist.

“Making sure I actually cut them Bill?” Stanley’s words caused Bill to drop the blade. It clattered and slid against the floor, leaving a trail of blood. Stanley’s blood. Bill felt Stanley’s hands wrap against his throat. For a second, Bill forgot where he was. The first time he had felt Stan’s hands there was two days after they beat It for the first time. Stan’s hands had been rough, and the cut from the piece of glass was still healing. Stan had looked into Bill’s eyes before leaning in for their first kiss. God, how had Bill forgotten the taste of Stan’s lips? They were the taste of summer, free and wild, uncontrollable. Bill had loved that bout Stan. But now, Stanley’s hands weren’t anything like the kind, gentle hands that Bill remembered. They were still rough, but felt all wrong, and they were slick from the blood dripping down his arms. Stanley tightened his grip and Bill felt his airway get cut off. Bill looked into Stanley’s eyes, the eyes of the boy he had once loved, and felt nothing but fear.

Stanley leaned closer to Bill, whispering in his ear.“Do you know what my last words were Bill? Do you? They were ‘I promise Bill.’”

“Get off of him!” Richie yelled from across the room, drawing the attention of Stanley. 

“Oh Richie. Are you trying to help your friend? Are you?” Stanley turned his face towards Richie. “You couldn’t help me, what makes you think you can help him?”  
He was cut off by Eddie driving the blade of the razor into his neck. His blood sprayed across Bill’s face, coating his lips the same way Stan used to do with his mouth. Eddie removed the blade before slamming it back down. Bill closed his eyes, imagining for a second, just a second, that they were back in quarry, and that it was just water that was all over his face, and that Stan was fine and always would be. He imagined for a second that Stan was still with them and they were walking back to their house in the rain. He imagined anything but this. 

The thud of Stanley’s body hitting the floor brought him back to reality. He met Eddie’s eyes silently. “I’m so sorry Bill.” Eddie’s voice was weak, matching with his pale face.  
“I-I’m f-f-fine E-Eddie.” Bill’s stutter got worse, just like the shaking in his hands. He was sure that Eddie or Richie would see the shaking, call him out on it. “We need to get to the others.” 

Bill suddenly had a very good view of the ceiling. Stanley had swept his feet out from under him while he and Eddie had been talking. Eddie had been thrown into the wall, hitting his head. Stanley took advantage of the situation, taking a blade from his pocket and started carving his name into Bill’s chest. Bill let him, didn’t try to stop him. He deserved this, deserved to have Stanley carved into his flesh, deserved a reminder of the boy he loved and lost. He deserved what he got.

Richie looked on, horrified by what was going on. His best friend was in front of him carving into one of their closest friends. His best friend for his entire life in Derry was here, but it wasn’t him. Not really. His Stan didn’t have slit wrists. At least not all the time. 

His Stan was all light and dark wrapped up in one. During the day, with the rest of the losers Stan had a laugh that could light up any rainy day. During the night, when it was just Stan and Richie then Stan had a darkness inside, a dark the he said seeped out with the blood on his razors. Stan had the brightest smiles out of all of them, and the brightness of it contrasted sharply with the night sky around them as Richie bandaged his wrists for the seventh time in seven days. But now he couldn’t help Stan. Because he had cut too deep and Richie wasn’t there to patch him up. Richie failed his best friend and he had to live with that for the rest of his life. Which may not be to longer so hey, bright side, right?  
Richie was frozen. Not only was he terrified of this Stanley telling his secret to Eddie and Bill, but he also couldn’t believe that Stanley was in front of him. He thought he was never going to see him again, but he here he was, looking into Stanley’s eyes. He knew what Stanley said about him failing was true. He failed Stan and he just knew that he was going to fail someone else too. Richie was nothing more than a pathetic failure, doomed to amount to nothing, just like his parents. If he hadn’t failed as a friend then Stan would still be alive, not in some morgue getting prepared for his own funeral. Stan was too bright to die this young. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Don’t worry Richie, I didn’t forget you.” Richie had forgotten his best friend. If he had remembered Stan would things have been different? “I’ll take care of you after I take care of Billy here.” Bill. Richie had failed one friend, he wasn’t going to fail another. He couldn’t do anything for Stan anymore, he had to focus on Bill now. Time to start figuring things out. This is what he was good at, figuring things out. Richie moved towards Eddie. The blade was next to him and Richie would need it to help Bill. Richie dropped to his knees, shaking Eddie.

“Wake up Eds, we have to help Bill. Get up.” Eddie looked around blearily. His hands shot out, wrapping around the collar of Richie’s shirt.

“Where is the blade Rich?”

“To your left, about half a foot away. You grab it and I’ll distract Stanley.” Eddie nodded and released Richie’s shirt.

“Be careful. Don’t be a dumb ass Rich.” 

Richie stood and faced Stanley. He had finished carving his name into Bill’s chest and was started on repeating the process on his right leg. “Get away from him.”

Stanley paused and looked up at Richie. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you.” Richie balled his hands into fists. He could at least distract Stanley long enough for Eddie to get the razor and get to Stanley. 

Stanley stood then, turning away from Bill, who was on the floor in a pool of his own blood. “I don’t think you can make me do anything Richie boy. If you could you would have made me leave a while ago, before I started my artwork on our buddy Bill. If you could make me do anything then you failed him too.” The words stung but Richie had to keep it together for Eddie to be able to get the razor. Richie opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he could get any words out Eddie blew past him, going for Stanley.  
Eddie hit Stanley with the force of a freight train.“You don’t get to do this to them! They are my FRIENDS and I’ll be damned before I let you hurt them anymore. GO AWAY!” The door separating them and the other losers flew open under the force of Mike and Ben ramming it together. They came upon the scene with horrified looks on their faces. Eddie finished plunging the blade deep into Stanley’s heart as they came into the room. 

Beverly immediately went over to Bill, kneeling down and helping him sit up. Mike went over to Eddie and helped him up, taking the blade from his hand as he did so. Ben went over to Richie who was still reeling from what Stanley had said to him. 

“Listen man, whatever happened, it wasn’t real. It was just It fucking with you. You’re safe.” Good old Haystack. He was always trying to help, reassure them. He was a good friend.

“We need to go to the well.” Bill spoke before anyone could say anything about leaving and coming back the next day. He was going to face this thing and kill it. For Stan.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.


End file.
